


Kirk Always Went Home Alone

by miera



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Aliens Make Them Do It, Aphrodisiacs, Bondage, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-31
Updated: 2010-07-31
Packaged: 2017-10-10 21:17:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/104380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miera/pseuds/miera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Captain Kirk may have nailed a lot of alien princesses, but he always ended up back on Enterprise alone</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kirk Always Went Home Alone

**Author's Note:**

> Written to entertain people during the lj outage.

Evan Lorne had spent enough time at the SGC to get over any lingering adolescent male fantasies about off-world sex with aliens. He'd heard comments sometimes from the younger recruits, Marines mostly, about "Captain Kirk" and jokes about encounters with hot alien princesses. Most people on off-world teams lost interest in such things after hearing stories about some of the things that had happened to people like General O'Neill, Dr. Jackson and others over the years.

And of course, Sheppard's spectacularly bad history with predatory alien women in the Pegasus galaxy spoke for itself.

Evan took a rather pessimistic view of the issue. If it ever happened, he figured it wouldn't be some Kirk-esque fantasy scene with a big sumptuous bed and a scantily clad, nubile alien seductress. No, it would be some rickety old cot, he'd probably be drunk or drugged, possibly tied up and God only knew what the woman (if it was a woman at all) would look like. Thanks but no thanks.

Of course, right now he _is_ tied down to a rickety old cot and his head _is_ buzzing from whatever the hell was in the ceremonial drinks. He is indeed being stalked at the moment by the woman who tied him up but she is not some nearly-naked alien woman. She's his boss, and she's just as high as he is, and even if someone came in here right now to stop this, any chance he had of working with Elizabeth without massive awkwardness is already out the window. She already knows that the very prominent erection (hard to miss given that he's naked and as spread-eagled as he can get on the damn cot) isn't from the drinks, but from her, from how much he's wanted her for months, and now he's biting down on his tongue to keep from spilling every _other_ secret in his head while she studies him almost curiously.

Some tiny part of his brain is not quite lucid but also not drunk, and is cataloging these events in a dispassionate way. How the rough rope binding his wrists and ankles is chafing his skin, how the scratchy fabric of the blanket on the cot is bunched up uncomfortably under his ass, the way the firelight trickling in through cracks around the windows and doors provides just enough illumination along with the primitive lantern for him to see Elizabeth begin to shed her clothes.

She never would've agreed to this if she'd been sober. He thinks. He's not sure. He'd already figured out the ceremonial punch was affecting him by the time this whole thing had come up and their hosts had talked Elizabeth into participating. They'd initially been trying to get her to do this with one of their village leaders. Evan had been having trouble thinking past the angry red haze in his head at that idea, but Elizabeth wiggled out of that one and then she was walking towards the hut with him trailing obediently behind her. He dimly remembers the shocked faces of his team as Dr. Weir and their CO went off to participate in an alien "bonding ritual."

He snorts again, thinking "bondage" ritual would be more accurate. He has no idea why it's important to these people for him to be tied up, no idea why alien cultures would even require strangers to have sex to prove something, and he's very rapidly not caring as Elizabeth's skin is bared to him, piece by piece, and his body aches for her so much he whimpers.

When she's completely nude she approaches the bed, and he realizes belatedly that they're both sweating heavily even though the night air outside was chilly. When Elizabeth bends over to balance herself, she slings a leg across his hips and straddles him on her knees. He feels her skin slide against his, and he can see the moisture reflecting the flickering light, highlighting her body.

She's the most gorgeous thing he's ever seen and he pulls involuntarily at the restraints, because he has to touch her, run his hands over all that slick skin, taste the salt in the crease under her breast, feel her pulsing against his tongue, but he can't move. The only place they're touching is where her knees are pressed against his hips and her palms rest flat against his chest. She's holding herself off him deliberately, tantalizing him with how close she is.

He swallows loudly, staring up into her eyes in the low light. Her pupils are wide, but she's got a knowing, wicked little smirk on her face and he glares at her in response even as his heart kicks up another notch because that grin assures him that he is still dealing with Elizabeth Weir and not some zombiefied version acting purely on drug-induced compulsion.

She keeps her voice very low, but he's so focused on her he hears every word. "Evan, we can do this one of two ways," she says, then stops. She holds up her hand and waggles her fingers at him, then shifts her hips just enough to brush against him in a way that makes him curse. It takes a second to regain coherency after that, and he looks up at her and realizes she's maybe not so far gone on the alien drugs as he originally thought. She's giving them an option to get out of this without shattering their dignity or working relationship entirely.

The thought of why she's offering this, that their hosts are probably listening, or worse watching, hits him like a splash of cold water. Though he doesn't see how the latter is possible. The building is relatively solid and there were no obvious places a culture without things like remote cameras could be observing them. And okay he's babbling, even if it's just in his own head. But there are still people outside the door and as much as he wishes he could just cede full control to what the drugs are making his hormones demand, he fights it back.

But he also can't lie to her, not right now, not about this.

He lets out a breath slowly, Elizabeth watching him intently. He licks suddenly-dry lips and her eyes follow the move and that tiny little tell makes him answer with certainty, "I want this if you do."

There's absolutely nothing surprising about that statement, really. He's completely hard against her thigh and she knows already what his body wants to do to her. But it still feels like an admission.

She smiles at him though, a full, open smile and it sends a jolt of relief through him because she's so happy and real in that moment. It almost seems like this is something more than alien-induced sex, that this is really the two of them.

Then without any further foreplay or warning, she sinks down onto him.

Evan lets out a strangled moan. He barely registers her gasp, the way her head falls back as she settles, hip-to-hip, on top of him, because every coherent thought just got blasted out of his head in a rush of _hot_ and _tight_ and _yes, God, finally_. For a second he thinks he's going to lose it right there but then he draws in another breath and another and watches her for some sign of what to do now.

Elizabeth stays still for a long moment. He's willing her to start moving, but instead she reaches her fingers down to where they are joined. He feels it as soon as she touches herself, feels her own reaction to her own touch and this may be the hottest thing he's ever seen or done with anyone ever and it's going to kill him.

His eyes roll back in his head and he's yanking on the restraints, wriggling underneath her because he can feel her body clench and flutter around him but he can't _do_ anything about it, especially not what he desperately wants to do, which is thrust up into her hard and fast. But the restraints won't give enough and he has to just lie there and feel her driving herself closer to coming and it's driving _him_ completely mad.

Elizabeth reaches up with her other hand, cupping one breast and the sight makes him curse again. He begs her quietly, in a high pitched voice that barely sounds like him, "Elizabeth, please." He jerks his head and she understands because she leans over him and at least he can take her breast in his mouth, lick and suck and scrape the hard tip with his teeth. It's not much and his neck starts to ache quickly from stretching up to reach her but at least he can do something other than the stuttering little movements of his hips which are bringing him no relief.

She pulls away, though, and he tosses restlessly, body throbbing and his teeth grinding together until she throws her head back again. Her free hand is back against his chest, her nails digging into his skin as she balances her body with that arm. He can just see her hand moving frantically between her own legs, but he doesn't need to see it to know what it's doing to her, how she's feeling, how hot and wet and tight she is, how her body is clenching over and over. The light illuminates her face. Elizabeth's eyes are closed and her teeth digging into her bottom lip as she strains towards her own hand and his body.

Evan wants to kiss her so badly in that moment. He thinks he might be able to break the frame of the stupid cot if he pulled hard enough, just so her could cup her neck with his hand and draw her into a kiss.

But she starts to move, rocking up and down and his hands ball into fists. He's thrusting as much as he's able but it's not enough. Doesn't matter, because Elizabeth is riding him hard and fast now, and he can feel her release approaching as she starts to writhe above him.

Her orgasm hits in waves that he feels through his whole body, and the cry of pleasure that comes out of her throat would've finished him if the feeling of her coming hadn't done the job already. Aftershocks are rippling through her as she keeps moving and she feels so perfect around him, above him, staring down at him with wide eyes, that the knot of tension in his spine snaps. It seems like every fantasy he's ever had about her, every sexual or perverted thing he's ever imagined or could ever imagine doing to her, races through his mind in that moment, and he wants to do them all, just to get to see her like this over and over and over.

The yell he lets out as his body yields to the inevitable isn't a sound remembers ever making before, and it's louder and more raw than he's ever been in the middle of sex, and he doesn't care that their hosts and his own team are outside and probably heard it. He's never felt anything quite like this before so it seems appropriate and he's pretty sure it has nothing to do with the alien aphrodisiac and everything to do with the woman collapsing limply on top of him.

He has no idea how long they lie there, panting and occasionally muttering curses (well, he is). Elizabeth stirs eventually and he asks, politely, "Could you untie me now, please?"

She gets up, a bit unsteadily and he smirks at the way she has to stretch her legs before she can lean over and get his hands free. He helps her with the ropes around his ankles and swings to the side so he can put his legs down. His limbs are tingling from the restraints and he can feel raw patches on his wrists and ankles. Before Elizabeth can retreat he catches her arm and drags her down into his lap. He draws her face to his and kisses her.

He's relieved when she kisses him back. He has no idea what's going to happen later or when they get back to Atlantis, but for right now, he wants to have at least one real kiss.

When it ends, Elizabeth rests her forehead against his for a moment, and he listens to her breathe, strokes his fingers lightly down her spine and feels her breath gentle on his face. He's sleepy, due to the drugs or the sex, but he wants to imprint everything about Elizabeth naked and post-coital curled up in his lap on his memory.

She touches his cheek and looks at him and must guess his thoughts, because she gives him a "We'll talk later" look. Then they are getting up, stretching gingerly and dressing hastily. The night air outside is cool against his skin and he forces himself to meet the eyes of his team, because avoiding their gaze would look guilty (or guiltier). He tries to inject some steel into his expression, warning them off of saying anything, especially to Elizabeth.

The locals babble at Elizabeth about honoring them by participating in the ritual, and the team is staring at both her and Evan in something akin to awe. By the time the meeting is concluded and they're on their way back to the Stargate, the looks haven't faded. He knows they're not going to make it back home without a comment. He just hopes Elizabeth's reputation can survive this.

It's Cadman, unsurprisingly, who says something first, but Evan's amused that even Laura seems a bit nonplussed by what just happened. "Major, ma'am, that was…" She can't seem to come up with words, and she's looking at him and Elizabeth like she's not sure which way is up right now.

Elizabeth raises an eyebrow. "Sufficiently loud?"

He chokes for a second. So does Hanover, the taller of the two Marines.

Bensen, the other member of his team, grins at Elizabeth. "I was going to say Oscar-worthy, ma'am."

Elizabeth rolls her eyes. "Well, we like to keep our audiences riveted."

She shoots him a look and Evan realizes he's trailing behind slightly, staring at his team in confusion. He hastens to catch back up and as he listens to Elizabeth josh with the others, he realizes that they all thought it was faked. A performance for the benefit of their hosts. Elizabeth does nothing to undermine that idea, although he notices she avoids lying outright. It's a delicate verbal dance and he stays quiet for most of it.

Laura turns to him eventually. "That one yell of yours needs work, by the way, sir."

He just manages not to smirk at the memory and calls upon years of practice to keep his expression neutral. "No good?"

Laura chuckles. "It sounded like an impression of a hyena caught in a giant gearshift."

Elizabeth cracks up so hard she stumbles over a tree root and has to grab onto Hanover to keep from falling. Evan glares at her but it's without heat. If Elizabeth's reputation wasn't so iron-clad, there's no way that his team would be so nonchalant about this. But they think she'd never do something like _that_, even for the sake of diplomacy, and they probably also think he wouldn't allow it. He and Elizabeth just had the narrowest of escapes here.

_So don't blow it_, he tells himself. It would be foolish to take that kind of a chance again, really. It's possible to get away with something once, but repeating it raises the risk of exposure exponentially. There's no way he'll ever get this lucky again, of course.

Elizabeth grins at him and he strongly suspects she's putting an extra swing in her hips just to taunt him. He thinks about what he wouldn't give to get to touch her, really touch her, with his hands and body free. While they were on a more comfortable bed. Someplace where nobody can hear them or interrupt.

He drags his eyes away from Elizabeth's ass, and follows her.

There are always risks with off-world sex, he thinks to himself as they approach the gate. He starts dialing, Cadman gets ready to send her IDC, and Elizabeth brushes against his side as she watches him dial. Her body is warm and he can smell her through the night air.

He wouldn't be in Atlantis if he didn't like the occasional risk. And Captain Kirk may have nailed a lot of alien princesses, but he always ended up back on Enterprise alone.


End file.
